Syrian Jewels

 

 

We thought that we’d found diamonds, in the sand:

Fragments without colour in the hand.

 

Only to discover, in the hard

White face of it, the daggers of a shard,

 

The blasted sand turned glass, its broken sift;

The firestorm leaving fractals of a gift.

 

The crater scorched the desert into mirror,

Death’s diamonds, mere reflections of their terror.

 

 

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